A Whisper on the Wind
by Infernal Rose
Summary: When Voldemort's attack on Harry goes a bit differently, Harry ends up in the Elemental Continents. Picked up as a baby by Danzo and taken to ROOT headquarters to be trained as one of the first of many perfect child shinobi, how will Harry's fate change? SLASH. Pairing: it's a surprise.
1. Chapter 1: Arrival

_**A/N: The plot bunny won't leave me in peace to concentrate on **__**There Comes A Time**__**, so sorry if I'm frusturating any followers of that story. Just a warning, and it might be groundless, but I may or may not publish more than just this story soon, because I'm not even kidding when I say that the plot bunny is torturing my brain. Sorry if the updates for these stories are slow, and I am not dropping There Comes a Time if you were worried about that. And I apologize if there are any mistakes with grammar. I can't use Microsoft Word anymore because I don't have a product key, and my trial thingy ran out; therefore, no spell check. I usually have pretty good spelling and grammar, but I'm not perfect.**_

_**Warning: This story will be slash/yaoi/shounen ai. In other words, gay/homosexual relationships. If you don't like don't read. You have been warned.**_

_**Pairing: You'll have to wait and see ;)**_

Harry James Potter was always a very special child in many ways, and not only to his parents as most children are prone to be. However, there were two very distinctive characteristics that made him especially unique amoung children, though any Muggles that happened to meet the child would only see one of these traits. Anyone could see that little Harry was an unusually calm child, even as a newborn baby. He was always much happier when he was outside than he was inside, and he never cried unless it was because he was hungry, or had a soiled diaper; even when he did cry, it was a very quiet, almost inaudible sound. He always seemed to be looking at or listening to something only he could see. There was something about Harry that only a wizard could see, though it was actually more of a feeling than anything, for one did not _see_ magic, and Harry's magic was the second thing that made him special.

Like most children of the wizarding world, Harry had a magical core, and a rather strong one for a child, too. Harry ,though, seemed to have something more than just that. There was another kind of energy that no one who examined Harry had ever seen before. None of the professionals that Lily and James Potter hired knew what the energy was, nor were they able to discern its purpose, though they tossed out many theories. The only thing that any of them would agree on was that it was new, and that it was, indeed, there. Though it seemed to cause little Harry no harm. Needless to say, Harry's parents were not particularly comforted, though they had no choice but to put the matter at the back of their minds, seeing as there was nothing they could do about it.

By the time Harry was was one year old, the issue had been largely forgotten when nothing ever came of it, though they still found Harry's odd calmness troubling. They had much more pressing matters to worry about; namely Voldemort and his desire to put an early end to their beautiful son's life due to some prophecy. On Dumbledore's advice, the family went into hiding, moving into one of James' ancestral homes under the fidelous charm, with a secret keeper no one would automatically suspect. They lived in peace and safety for several months, and happily celebrated their son's first birthday.

Alas, as it is often heard, all good things must come to an end, and some good things end quite a bit more drastically than others. On one fateful Halloween night, the Potters were betrayed by the person who they'd entrusted their safety to. James was slain first, in a futile attempt to buy his wife time to escape with Harry. Lily died soon after, protecting Harry up to her last breath. The little emerald-eyed boy, still a baby, watched with childlike innocence as his mother fell with a flash of sickly green light, her beautiful crimson hair cascading through the air for the last time from the crib he had been hurridly placed in, before the same wand that had ended his parents' lives was turned on him. A strange, fierce wind suddently sprung up around the child just as the curse was cast, striking Voldemort's hand and throwing the spell off course. The deadly beam of light hit the small round mirror that hung on the wall above the baby's crib, and bounced back, hitting Voldemort's left ear as it was refracted across the room. Before the Dark Lord could even process what was happening, he was dead, killed by his own rebounding spell. All of the commotion distressed Harry, and he let out his first ever wail.

That was not the end of the events of the night though. With Voldemort's death, his magical energy was released into the atmosphere of the room, adding to the combination of Harry's magic and the strange energy that Harry was unconciously releasing in his state unhappiness. The energy massed around Harry, spinning faster and faster, shaped only by the one-year-old's emotions. When the energy's rotation had reached its peak, Harry disappeared with a flash and a loud bang that sent a shockwave throughout the house.

. . .

Sirius Black stared in horror at the ruins of the house in front of him. When the alarms he had tied to the Potter house had gone off, he had Apparated immediately, but it was too late. "JAMES!" he shouted as he stumbled towards the house, "LILY! HARRY!" It was to no avail. There was no answering laugh from James because he'd gotten one over on him, no scolding from Lily as she undid the glamour on the house, no serene smile and wave from little Harry as he toddled onto the porch. The brick walls of the house remained in their state as charred rubble, and the acrid stench of smoke polluted the air. When he finally passed through the barely standing door, he was confronted with the sight of his dearest friend's body lying at the foot of the stairs.

James looked as if he had simply fallen asleep, as if he would wake up if Sirius shook his shoulder. Sirius knew that his friend was dead though. His body was covered in grime from whatever explosion had ruined the house, and his chest was frighteningly still, not rising with breath as it should have been. Tears started streaming down his face as he walked past James' body and up the stairs. He dreaded what he would find there. He walked past the master bedroom, seeing that it was empty, and continued down the hall to Harry's nursery. What he saw there shocked him as much as it pained him.

The nursery was clearly the epicenter of the blast. The formerly blue walls were scorched and crumbling, and anything that had hung on the walls had found a place on the floor. The main thing that caught his attention though, were the two dead bodies on the floor. Lily lay crumpled in front of the crib, her wildly red hair splayed around her, so vibrant that it looked alien in the current setting. The other body was the last thing Sirius had expected to see when he walked into the room. This body was that of a rather handsome man with wavy black hair and pale skin, seemingly in his forties. The body of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Sirius didn't know how long he stood there staring at the bodies of one of his best friends and the wizarding world's worst enemy, but eventually his mind began to process infrormation once more. His mind registered that there was no sound in the house except for the noise of a slight breeze and his own labored breething. There was no sound of a baby crying in distress. There was no Harry in the crib that Lily had evidently died protecting. Harry wasn't there.

The last thought echoed through his brain as he scoured the house for Harry, but it was to no avail. Harry was truly gone. His godson was missing, and he didn't know if he was even alive. When Hagrid arrived thirty minutes later, he found a devastated Sirius Black rocking back and forth in a crouch with tears streaming relentlessly down his face.

. . .

Danzo was heading towards th ROOT headquarters at precisely 11:59 p.m. when he head a soft noise that didn't belong in the secluded alley way he was passing through. He immediately stopped and searched his surroundings for threats or tails. Seeing none, he was about to continue on when he heard the noise again, more clearly this time, and was able to hone in on the source. There was a baby, approximately 15 months old, lying in a garbage can.

Now Danzo was a cold-hearted ninja, who had no tolerance for children and couldn't care less if a random baby died in a dumpster in an alleyway. He would normally have left the child there to die without a second thought, and he was indeed about to leave it when an idea struck him. He had been planning for quite some time now to train ROOT ninja from children to become the perfect emotionless shinobi. His only problem was getting his hands on children capable of molding chakra. There were plenty of orphaned children runnning around, but they possessed no chakra, and those parentless children who did have chakra either had clans or were kept an eye on by the Hokage. Danzo could sense that this child had chakra. In fact, the child had quite good amount of chakra for such a small one. So, with this in mind he picked the baby up before continuing on his way to headquarters, arriving late for the first time since ROOT's founding. Even if it was only by a few seconds.

Not that any of the ROOT Anbu inhabiting the base noticed, as Danzo used the same secret passage way he always used to get straight to his dimly lit office without being seen. He did his routine check to make sure that nothing in his office had been tampered with and was exactly as he had left it, before taking a seat behind his desk, which was occupied by a copious amount of papers. Once he had comfortably situated himself in his chair, holding the baby somewhat awkwardly, he called for one of the ROOT members that were guarding the door to his office. "Bring me No. 37," he said shortly, not even looking up as the ROOT ninja left the room in a flash. He took the time while he waited to closely examine the child he'd picked up from the dumpster.

The baby had an unruly shock of inky black hair and the smooth, pale skin he supposed all babies had. The most noticeable feature of the child were the vibrant green eyes that were currently watching him quite calmly. He vaguely pondered over how a baby managed to pull of a calm look. He'd always thought of babies as being continuously loud and fussy creatures that were only calm in sleep, and he'd never seen anything to contradict his opinion before now. The baby hadn't made any noise since he'd picked it up. A cold, calculating look appeared in his eyes as he thought it over. The baby already had the makings of a fine ROOT shinobi if what he saw wasn't a fluke. ROOT Anbu No. 37 arrived in the room quickly and silently, as she had been trained to, and waited quietly for her orders. Which Danzo promptly gave.

"Your new mission is to make sure this doesn't die until it is old enough to be trained," Danzo said, holding the child up for the shinobi to take, who did so after a moment of what would be called shocked stillness in anybody who was not a member of ROOT. "Neither you or it are to leave headquarters until it either dies in training or becomes a fully initiated ROOT member. It is not allowed to come into contact with anyone other than you or myself until it begins training." Danzo then began to sort through his paperwork after a short dismisal.

And so began the start of the former Harry Potter's life in the Konohagakure.

_**A/N: Here are some answers to things you may or may not be wondering about, depending on how observant and inately curious you are. Vodemort doesn't have horcruxes in this story, and he died for good. Harry has no lightening scar because he didn't get hit by the curse at all, and he was pulling a disappearing act when the house came down, so he didn't get injured at all. I would have done the ROOT members' names in Japanese, but I don't know enough to of the language to do it, and I'm far to lazy to look up a translation unless it's absolutely vital. And Harry's name won't be Harry for the obvious reason of there being no way or reason for Danzo or anyone from ROOT to find it, and Harry being to young to talk, much less remember his name. I don't know if I'm going to have him find a way back to Hogwarts yet or not. Anyway, I hope you like it, and for heaven's sake PLEASE REVIEW! It's not as if I can read your mind to find out what you think of my story.**_


	2. Chapter 2: Training

_**A/N: Okay, a lot of people have been asking about this so here's the answer: no, Harry will not be Sai. I don't have anything against Sai, but he's not one of my favorite characters, and I have a whole different image in my head for Harry. Though he might turn up somewhere in the story. Also, someone pointed out to me that babies can start talking at around fifteen months. I put Harry at being pretty much exactly that age, but he would have only just barely started speaking one word sentences at that point, and I can't really see Harry knowing enough to tell someone his name, and later on he wouldn't remember because people don't really remember things that happend before the age of two or three. And, as you'll see in the this chapter, Danzo and ROOT **__**really**__** don't care about Harry's name. I've pretty much decided that Harry won't be going back to his dimension in the story, seeing as he doesn't really need to with Voldy being dead and all. I think the Hidden Countries will be a different dimension in this particular story. Oh, and yes, Voldemort does still have his nose. All of his previously good looks because he was never given a body by way of evil dark ritual. Oh, and by the way, the picture I have for this story is what I'm picturing Harry as when he's young, if a bit stronger and in different clothes. I think I've answered all the questions. Enjoy :)**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or Naruto.**_

The Boy grew up in a small room with no windows in the depths of the ROOT headquarters. When he was still a baby, No. 37 stayed in the same room as him, but when he was approximately three years old, she deemed him old enough that he didn't need constant watching out for, and moved in to a separate room. His bed was a small pallet next to the wall opposite the door with a course, gray blanket. He had a bucket in the opposite corner that served as a toilet. There was a small sink built into the wall next to it, and a small basin next to it. The only human interaction he had was No. 37, who brought him healthy but tasteless meals three times a day, and taught him to speak properly by the time he was around two years old. After she taught him to read by the age of three, scrolls and books occumpanied the meals that were brought for him.

Every one of the scrolls and books were similar in that they were all about things that were taught in the Ninja Academy, so he learned it all: the history of the hidden village he apparently lived in, how to calculate the trajectory of a kunai or shuriken, what chakra was and the basics of how to control it, basic strategy, and the most common and simple jutsus and genjutsus. He learned the way of the ninja, and of how he would always be loyal to the village and the Hokage, and of his duty to protect it. The Boy read every single bit of reading material that was given to him. He was always alone when No. 37 wasn't dispassionately teaching him things that he would need to know in order to start his training - when the order came. He had no toys, no candy, no human companionship beyond the cold No. 37. There was nothing to occupy his time except to read and listen to the wind.

The wind was an interesting thing. It would wrap around him and play with his hair, and whisper about everything it touched to him. He could see what it touched too, or at least he thought he could. It showed him pictures of a blue ceiling it called the sky, with a bright ball of light hanging in it, and white things called clouds. It showed him people laughing or talking or crying, sometimes shouting. He paid special attention to them. They were like him. They didn't have masks over their faces, except for a few of them. He often wondered why he wasn't in the same place as them. He wasn't aloud to move his face the way they did either, or make noises. Maybe he was bad, because he couldn't stop himself from having emotions and feeling the way the books and No. 37 told him to.

The wind also showed him animals, and strange brown and green things that grew out of the ground called trees that he'd only ever read about. The ground was another interesting thing. It spoke to him too, though not as much. He tended to feel it more than speak to it. The earth was much quieter and much, much older too, where the wind was as young as the newest breeze. He could feel what was in the dirt far beneath his feet, and he could feel the movement that anything made against the ground if he was paying attention. The ground wouldn't move when he told it to the way the wind did though.

One day, when the green-eyed boy was around four or five years old, a scary old man came to his room in the middle of one of his lessons with No. 37. The old man had brown skin, brown eyes, and brown hair. Strangest of all, he wasn't wearing a mask or a hood like No. 37 did. This strange old man was the first person the Boy ever saw without a mask on, without the help of the wind anyway. He seemed to be important, too, judging from the way No. 37 spoke and acted around him. The old man spoke to No. 37 across the room from the Boy for a few minutes, where he couldn't hear what they were saying. The old man didn't stay long though. He left as soon as he was done speaking to the ROOT agent, and No. 37 continued the lesson as if they had never been interrupted. Things didn't remain so simple for long though.

. . .

After that fateful day, everything changed. He met many more of the mysterious masked people that dwelled in the same building as he did, his new teachers. Some of them he saw regularly, while some of them he only had as teachers for a few days or weeks, until he had learned enough of what they taught him to make them satisfied. His regular teachers were for taijutsu, weapons, chakra control and chakra sensing, genjutsu, and ninjutsu. Nos. 86, 52, 24, 112, and 65 respectively, though sometimes he would have a different teacher if one of his regulars was sent on a mission. His training schedule ran like clock-work; he would wake up at five o'clock every morning and go to the specified training room to meet one of his senseis, then train until nine p.m. every day.

He learned several different styles of taijutsu, and had to train his muscles in reflexes, speed, and strength, along with flexibility. He was trained to sense any weapons coming at him before it hit, and dodge them without having to track them with his eyes. He also had pinpoint accuracy with every weapon he'd been trained in so far, and there were more weapons to come. In regards to chakra, he was taught to feel its presence and cloak his own chakra. His control progressed from making leaves hover over various parts of his body to walking up the walls and eventually, walking around on the surface of a freezing cold pool. Breaking genjutsu came easily to him. The wind and earth would always tell him if he was being caught in a genjutsu, and then it was just a matter of getting out of it. He wasn't good enough at creating genjutsu to be taught much beyond the basics though.

As far as ninjutsu went, he was very good. He had excellent reserves for his age, and was better with his chakra control than one would expect for his age, let alone the amount of chakra he had. For some reason, he didn't have to use very much chakra for jutsus, so he conserved his chakra well, too. He had a very good memory for the hand seals, and seemed to have a nack for putting the correct amount of chakra in a jutsu after only a few tries.

The Boy had training in other subjects, too, though not quite as much as in the main ones. He learned to recognize plants that had healing or poisonous attributes on sites, as well as how to make and utilize basic poisons and antidotes. He had training to improve all of his senses, and how to fight without being able to see. The Boy was quite good at that due to his ability to feel the vibration of his opponent's movements through the eart, and the wind whispering in his ears. He learned to read lips and body language, and to speak sign language: each of the versions used by civilians, shinobi in general, anbu, and ROOT. How to lie and how to deceive and how to remain hidden.

. . .

Danzo gaze was intent as the last of the Boy's teachers finished his report. "A Kekkei Genkai you say," he said with particular glint in his eyes. "How does it work?"

"We're not entirely certain because it isn't apparent often," No. 86 answered carefully, "but it seems to have something to do with the wind. His chakra is thicker than is normal too." Danzo nodded as he thought over what he'd been told. The Boy was excelling in his training, and he seemed to good chakra control despite his fairly large amount of chakra. At approximately six years old, the child was nearing chuunin level.

"Step up his training," Danzo commanded, coming to a decision. "Move him on to elemental chakra training. Since he seems have a Kekkei Genkai that manipulates the wind though, don't bother with any wind jutsus." He turned to No. 37, "I want you to start him on medical ninjutsu," he said before turning to adress all of them once more. "If he isn't struggling, you aren't pushing him hard enough. I want him ready for initiation within three years. Dismissed." He paid no attention to his operatives as they vanished from the room, his mind already deeply involved in his plotting.

. . .

"Move faster," No. 86 said coldly as he smoothly deflected the Boy's kick. The Boy complied to the best of his abilities as he tried to dodge an incoming punch, but his weights had just been increased more than they ever had been at one time before, and he was having trouble adjusting. With his teachers though, it was do or die, so he kept fighting with all of his strength. The Boy didn't doubt that if he couldn't keep up with the training he was given, the ROOT anbu who served as his teachers wouldn't hesitate to end his life. He knew he would get used to the new weight within a few days at most, taking into account just how much weight had been added.

By the end of the training session, the Boy had obtained more cuts and bruises than he'd had since the very beginning of his training. Not all of them were entirely new either. All of his teachers seemed to be pushing him harder than ever before. All of his training sessions were becoming more and more brutal. Not only that, but they were longer as well. He now got up one hour earlier and went back to his room one hour later than he used. Something had changed. And it filled him with a greater sense of dread than he'd ever felt before.

The wind was his only comfort as he lay on his pallet, safely hidden in his room. As he was filled with worry and exhaustion from all the drastic changes in his training, a small breeze from the crack under the door ruffled his hair soothingly while it whispered the words of a lullaby in his ear. Even the earth hummed gently at him, and it didn't like him as much as the wind did. He drifted to sleep that night watching images of the Outside on the wind: the lonely blond boy on a swing, the boy with the red triangles on his cheeks playing with his dog, the girl with the brown pigtails throwing kunai at a target. The boy with the spikey brown ponytail that he saw most often because he was always sleeping or watching the sky outside. Even the man with the spikey silver hair who was always sitting in front of the rock covered in names.

. . .

The Boy hung upsidedown from the ceiling with the ropes of a net in his hands. "Keep walking!" No. 24 shouted harshely from below him, before throwing another heavy rock into the already full net, narrowly missing his head. The boy grunted and increased the chakra flow to his feet before taking another step. He immediately had to jump quickly to the wall when No. 24 threw a kunai at him. Almost dropping his load when the weight shifted, he adjusted his grip and held on steadfastly. Only three more hours to go. Then they got to move on to the icy pool.

. . .

All of the muscles in his body, including his facial muscles, were carefully held still as the glowing metal rod was pressed onto the skin of his stomach. Cuts and bruises litered every inch of his body, and several of his bones were fractured, if not completely broken. Several senbon were still sticking out of points in his body carefully chosen to inflict the most pain. Yet not a single sound escaped him, even as the rod was thrust once more into the fire before being brought into contact with his skin once more. If he moved or made any sound, the pain would only get worse. He'd learned the hard way. The Boy also knew that as soon as they had done all they could to him, he would be sent to the healers, then returned for a different variation of the torture. It brought to mind a phrase he'd once overheard - on the wind - a woman from the Outside say, 'rinse and repeat'. He blocked out everything around him in order to escape the pain of his reality, even the comforting touch of the wind. If he listened to the wind at all, he would lose control and use it to force all of his tormenters away from him, and if he did that, he would fail, and it would start all over again from the very beginning. This was torture resistance training, and the boy was resisting it the only way he knew how.

. . .

A hail of thrown weapons rained towards him before being deflected by the wind. The Boy's hands and feet were chained to the wall, the purpose of this training being that he used only his wind to fight and protect him self. All of his teachers were there, sometimes taking turns and sometimes a few of them would attack simultaneously, though never did they all attack at once. This training excercise had become a weekly occurance once his senseis had learned that his chakra nature was wind, with earth being secondary. They taught him many earth-style jutsus, but mostly worked on his control of the wind. This was due to Danzo's edict that he not be taught wind jutsus if he could already control it, though the Boy didn't know that. A dragon made of fire was sent in his direction by No. 65, but its form was immediately lost in a great gust of wind, the fire sent back in the direction of the various ROOT operatives. It very nearly roasted them too. Well they _had_ wanted him to get inventive with his wind.

. . .

The Boy was reading a scroll he had been given on healing jutsu when the door to his room was opened. He was a little worried and confused because he had never been disturbed after training was over before, though the feeling slightly lessened when another boy who looked to be a few years older than him was pushed into the room by a ROOT agent and the door was closed again. Children had been slowly filtering into the rooms on the same floor as his in the ROOT headquarters for a few months now. He'd never had much to do with them so far since they were only just starting their training and therefore had nothing to do with them. He guessed that the other boy would be sharing his room. The other boy walked toward him with a smile, causing the Boy to stiffen slightly in shock. It was his first time seeing a smile not on the wind. The other boy would get in trouble quickly if he kept doing that.

"I guess you'll be my roomie for now," the other by said with a smile on his face, holding his hand out. "My name is Aoki." The Boy stared first at the other boy's hand, then at his face. He didn't get why the other boy was saying he had a name, or why the other boy wanted him to touch his hand. Only the people on the outside had names and touched each other without causing pain. Maybe it was because the other boy was from the Outside. Still, the other boy would learn in time that he didn't have a name here; all of the others must have, since they were still alive. The other boy's smile drooped a little from the lack of a response, but didn't die. "What's your name?" he Boy was still, and at it seemed like he wouldn't answer.

". . . Don't have one," the reply was so soft that Aoki almost didn't hear it. But he did hear it, and it shocked him. Aoki had been an orphan for as long as he could remember, and he'd always thought he'd had it pretty bad. Yet this boy with the quiet voice, who looked like he was younger than Aoki, didn't even have a name. He hadn't thought that was possible. Even orphans like him had names. By the time Aoki had gotten over his shock, he could do nothing but go over to the other pallet in the room because the Boy had already turned the light out and gone to sleep.

Aoki dropped into sleep with only slightly more trouble than he usually did. However, the Boy was not asleep as Aoki had thought. He stayed awake throughout the whole night, unable to sleep being unaccustomed to having anyone else in his room at night, and worried about the other boy being a threat.

. . .

The next day, the Boy was working on chakra control by himself. Usually No. 24 would be supervising him at the very least, but she had had to take care of training the newer children today, along with the other remaining teachers because most of them were away on missions on that particular day. She had simply told him to his net execise all day, so he was doing just that. It was amazing how much easier it was when there wasn't someone constantly throwing more rocks on the pile or weapons aimed at him. It came so naturally that he didn't have to think much about holding up his rock-filled net while walking around the ceiling, so he began to listen to different conversations drifting on the wind. Eventually he honed in on one conversation in particular because he heard the other boy, Aoki's, voice.

". . . bout him?" came Aoki's voice.

"No, he's a complete mystery," said a voice belonging to a girl, "the only thing any of us knows about him is that he's been here longer than any of us, and that he never speaks." The Boy heard murmurs of agreement from the others in the group. The only reason they were able to talk without trouble was that it wasn't their group's turn to spar, and the teachers were preoccupied with the other groups.

"And he's younger than most of us," a boy this time said, sounding slightly superior.

"But he's the strongest, and has the most training," another boy argued. "He's never even been trained with us before because he's already way past us in training."

"He gets up earlier than us, and finishes training later," one girl added.

"So nobody knows his name," Aoki said, sounding slightly bewildered. The others in the group turned to look at him.

"As far as any of us knows, he doesn't have one, not even a number like the senseis." The Boy presumed that they were speaking of him by this point, and would have continued to listen out of plain curiousity, but the group was called to spar by No. 52.

Aoki continued with his fascination for the Boy, and would always talk to him when they were in the privacy of their room. At first, the Boy ignored him for the most part, not wanting to get any punishment, but as time went on without any trouble, the Boy would occasionally reply to a question Aoki asked, or give advice on training Aoki said he had a hard time with. Eventually, the Boy realized that he was growing fond of Aoki, especially on the day when Aoki decided to give him a name. Granted, it was a girl name that hadn't taken any imagination to come up with, but still, it was a name. Midori, Aoki called him, because of his eyes.

_**A/N: And it's a wrap! I finished this a lot quicker than I expected. I hope you all like it! Please review!**_


	3. Chapter 3: Induction

_**A/N: So the reason I have in my head for Harry being so quiet and calm from such a young age is because 1) he's a pretty intelligent child, if not a genius 2) he has been able to hear and feel the wind and earth all of his life. It keeps him pretty entertained, and since he does so much listening, he isn't much of a talker. His voice is quiet because the wind amplifies sound for him. The reason he can hear/feel/see the wind/earth is that he is the only wizard to ever have chakra. His chakra affinities are primarily wind, and secondarily earth. Harry's magic mixes with his chakra, giving him his abilities with the wind and earth, along with making his chakra thicker, which allows him to use less chakra for techninques than other people. Harry doesn't have a name because he is nothing but a tool to them, not a person. He doesn't have a No. because he hasn't been initiated into the ROOT corps. Harry will be around the same age as the Rookie Nine. His new name, Midori, means green and it's a girl name. I might have a bit of fun with that.**_

There were now a total of 84 children in the ROOT training program. The problem Danzo had previously had with getting orphans had ceased to exist over time as the Sandaime grew older and more swamped with paperwork than ever. With a little help from Danzo, of course. The new trainees ranged from ten to fifteen in age. Midori was still the youngest, and the strongest, of all of them. Very few of the trainees had ever taken any lessons with him, and those that had did it seldomly. Many of them were even afraid of him.

It couldn't be said that Midori excelled in his classes, though he certainly would have if he had normal teachers. However, his teachers had taken what their leader said in that meeting almost three years ago very seriously. Any time he began to get comfortable with his level of training, they found a way to increase the difficulty. There was no period of time throughout his training that Midori didn't struggle for his life. As his abilities increased, some of his lessons were changed or dropped completely, such as his lessons in chakra control. His weapons training was more focused on specialized weapons, such as his katanas, and using his chakra to boost his weapons. He was able to weild his wind with great skill as well, though thankfully none of the ROOT members ever found out that the wind and earth spoke to him and showed him the world beyond the walls of his prison. Only Aoki knew just how far his abilities with the wind went, or that he was connected to the earth as well to a lesser extent.

The worst lessons by far were his lessons in torture. A large amount of these lessons were simply for teaching him the most efficient and painful torture methods for extracting information. Midori could only be thankful they hadn't ever made him practice on real people so far, or he would be dead. He wouldn't have been able to go through with torturing a living being, and they would have killed him for it.

As terrible as learning to torture people was, torture resistance was worse. Though he's long since managed to pass that aspect of the training, he still had to go through the sessions of torture with the deranged torture specialists of ROOT, so that he didn't "get used" to the lack of pain. His only solace came from his elements, the wind and earth, and Aoki.

Aoki had come far in the time since he'd first come to the ROOT base. He was among the strongest of the group of trainees at twelve years old, and one of the only ones who didn't fear Midori. Midori helped him with any training he had trouble with in the privacy of his room. Aoki was specializing in healing due to his kind heart, and he studied poisons as well to add to his offensive skills. Midori also had an interest in both healing and poisons, so he was able to help him with his training in that regard. Aoki was the one who took care of him whenever he returned from a particularly grueling training session, or torture resistance. Luckily, Aoki himself hadn't yet started on that training yet, or Midori would have become broken for sure.

In his physical and taijutsu training, Midori had reached the limit of what his young body could take for the time without damaging himself permanently, and No. 86 knew that. His training in that area was all about skill and technique for the moment. It was also the training in which he was joined most often by the other trainees that were considered strong enough. This was mostly to give him experience with facing opponents that were weaker than him, and it played a large part in making the other kids fear him.

. . .

Midori winced inwardly when one of the newer trainees swerved to avoid him as he made his way to his usual small table with his lunch. He didn't like it that all of the others, with the exception of Aoki, were afraid of him. The eating in the 'cafeteria' was a recent addition to all of the trainees' usual routine. It seemed that some of the ROOT agents had finally tired of taking each of the trainees' meals to them individually. The room would have been an eerie sight to anyone not a member of ROOT or its training program, as it was a sea of disturbingly blank expressions on the face of every child. Midori's table was empty of people, other than himself, and those at the surrounding tables cast furtive glances at him, whispering hushedly. Though he didn't remain the table's sole occupent for long as a tall, strong looking boy boy with messy black hair, naturally tan skin, and earth brown irises took his usual seat across from him.

"Don't let it bug you," Aoki said quietly, looking him in the eyes. Midori nodded. "It's not as if I'm unused to it by now," he said. Aoki sighed sadly at the comment as he began to eat his meal. "What lessons do you have today?" Aoki asked after swallowing. To this day none of the trainees ever knew what training they would have until they met their teacher for the day. Midori lowered his eyes to his half eaten tray of food before answering. "Taijutsu."

"That explains why they're more skittish than usual today," Aoki remarked. Midori nodded slowly, his eyes still lowered, and Aoki sighed again. "It can't be helped. I had weapons today," he said, in hopes of changing the topic of conversation to a less depressing one. It worked, and Midori looked up again. "No. 52?" he asked quietly, eyes looking at the cuts and bruises that littered Aoki's body. "Yep," Aoki answered with a miniscule wince as he looked at a particulartly nasty cut on his left forearm. Either one of them could have healed it, but healing wounds without permission would get them in trouble. Midori's hair rustled in an invisible breeze for a moment, capturing Aoki's attention. When Midori turned to look at the doors, Aoki did as well.

Every person in the cafeteria looked up when the doors opened to reveal an obviously nervous new trainee. It was a boy with a head of nondescript brown hair and eyes that darted nervously around the room as he walked to get his lunch. He found no sympathetic faces, just cold indifference. Gradually, the usual whispering returned, and the boy was ignored until the time came for the boy to find his seat. There were no empty tables in the room, and all of them were quite full except for the one where Aoki and Midori sat. So that was naturally where the boy headed until the atmosqhere became so tense that even untrained the boy could feel it, so he halted halfway there in confusion, until he saw Midori glaring at him, radiating a bit of KI. Upon which the boy gulped loudly and promtly sat down in a small spot at the table he'd stopped beside, wondering how a boy that looked even younger that him could seem more dangerous than any of the others in the room. The trainees at the table had enough sympathy for his plight to leave him be for the duration of the lunch time. One was even kind enough to explain the situation to him. It wasn't the first time a similar event had occured.

Aoki watched his little friend with conern as Midori stopped releasing killer intent and looked at the table. It was a fact known only to Aoki that Midori purposely made sure that the other trainees stayed away. This was due to the fact that anyone who was seen hanging around with Midori caught the attention of the instructors, in a very bad way. The teachers didn't like Midori getting close to others because they didn't want their perfect little soldier to be ruined. The only one to withstand it to this day was Aoki, and that was only because he was Midori's roommate and was far too stubborn to give in, though even he would be in trouble should the instructors ever find out about the name he had given his friend. Midori had taken to purposely making all the others avoid him in order to spare them.

. . .

Aoki laid on his pallet, staring at the ceiling while he tried not to think. Because if he thought, he would worry and become pessimistic as his mind started coming up with worst case senarios about why Midori was late returning to their room tonight. His mind started doing exactly that, though, despite how hard he tried to prevent it.

In the best case, Midori's training went over the usual time, which wouldn't be too strange. Otherwise, his lateness meant that he'd had TR (torture resistance) today, which would be very bad. Midori would probably require a lot of healing if that were true, which thankfully Aoki would be allowed to do in that instance. The worst case senario would be that Midori had finally been killed during one of hellish 'training' sessions. Aoki hated the thought, but he wouldn't be surprised. He was one of the few who had participated in a couple of Midori's training bouts, and he knew exactly how harsh the instructors were on him. He could only pray to Kami-sama that it wasn't the case.

His prayers were answered when the door to their little room was opened, and Midori's broken and bloody body was carelessly tossed in. Not late from training then, but not dead either. Aoki immediately rushed to where Midori lay and set to work on the wounds, not daring to move him to his pallet lest he jostle something he shouldn't in the process. Plus it would get blood all over the pallet, which Midori wouldn't thank him for.

This was the worst he'd ever seen Midori returning from a TR session. Carefully made cuts decorated his entire body. Almost all of his ribs were broken, along with several other bones, and many others were fractured. Senbon stuck out of several very painful places, and his body was riddled with painful burns. Midori's long black hair was wet, which meant that they'd dunked him too. Aoki saw that salt had been brutally rubbed into all ot the open wounds. While this would keep them from getting infected, it would have been exrutiatingly painful. Aoki found himself working with tears in his eyes as he gradually stopped the bleeding.

Aoki was exhausted, and had finished healing about half of the broken bones when Midori woke up. His body suddenly tensed before he slowly and cautiously opened his eyes, only relaxing when he saw Aoki hovering over him with a glowing green hand pressed to his ribs, and the wind reassured him that it was the real Aoki. "I can take care of the rest of it," Midori said, taking in Aoki's tired and bloodshot eyes. "You go to sleep." Aoki nodded wearily, trusting Midori as he walked to his pallet. He knew that he was on the verge of collapse, and he still had training the next day. "Thank you," Midori whispered to Aoki's back as his own hand was engulfed with green chakra. Aoki barely heard him, already almost asleep as he muttered something incomprehensible in return.

. . .

Danzu coldly surveyed Midori's instructors as they stood at attention in a line before him in his dimly lit office. He allowed his oppresive chakra to fill the air as he paced back and forth in front of them, taking a sadistic pleasure in the nervousness he could feel growing in them as he did so. "I have recently been made aware that the Hokage has become suspicious of me." He began, staring into each of their eyes as he walked down the line again. "This means," he continued, "that we need all the ROOT members we can get. It has been almost three years since I have spoken to you about the Boy." The way he said the word 'boy' left no doubt as to whom he was speaking of. "I will be watching his training for the next week to assess his skill. He will be inducted once the week has passed if he passes my judgement, and you won't all lose your lives." He finished with a grim smile that sent shivers down the hardened shinobi's spines. "Hai, Danzo-sama," they said in unison. "Dismissed," Danzo said as he sat behind his desk. They were gone by the time he picked up his pen.

. . .

Midori, now almost nine years old, was anxious. It was an unhappy combination of worry and nervous anticipation. The maskless old man had been watching him for a week, in a way that made Midori feel uncomfortably like the prey of a hawk that was just waiting to swoop down and devour him. Needless to say, it was not a good sensation, and the dread that welled up within him felt disturbingly like a premonition of bad things to come. He just hoped that he was proven wrong, even as he felt the man's cold and calculating eyes sweep over his form as he went through his most complicated katas at his best speed.

He got the sinking feeling that his hopes were for naught when both he and Aoki were called to the same training room after the seventh day of being observed by the old man, whom he'd heard being called 'Danzo-sama' by the instructors. The sensation only increased when he and Aoki entered the room to see all of his regular instructors lined up behind the old man that was the source of Midori's bad feeling. Midori was a master at reading the emotions behind the eyes after spending his whole life around people who never showed what they thought or felt on their faces, and he could see the cruelty and anticipation in the old man's eyes. The feeling increased tenfold as he and Aoki stood at attention.

"You have been training under ROOT Anbu for four years now," the old man spoke, addressing Midori. "I have seen you in training, and I have decided that you will be inducted into ranks of my ROOT Anbu tonight." Both Aoki and Midori stiffened minately. A cold smirk grew on the old man's face as he made a signal to the ROOT members lined up behind him. Midori and Aoki held themselves rigidly in place as one of the instructors moved faster than they could blink to stab Aoki in the chest with a kunai. The weapon remained buried in his chest as the shinobi returned to his place in the line. "It's a shame to lose such a promising trainee," Danzo remarked, "but you're better." Every one stood completely still for a three minutes as Danzo closely watched Midori's carefully blank face before finally letting a small, satisfied smile curve the corners of his mouth. "Don't heal him," Danzo ordered Midori, walking to the door. "I expect to see you in your room at the usual time tomorrow morning," he said as he exited the room, followed by his subordinates.

Only once he was sure they were gone, did Midori drop to his knees beside Aoki, leaning over his body as he reached for the kunai. Tears leaked from his eyes for the first time since he was a small baby as he watched to irregular rise and fall of Aoki's chest. He was preparing for the healing jutsu that would hopefully save him, when Aoki's hand reached up to grab his wrist.

"Don't," Aoki gasped, "they'll k-kill you." Midori tried to shake him off, but Aoki's hand was surprisingly strong, even as blood flowed continuously from the wound in his chest. "It doesn't matter," Midori said, shaking his head blindly. Aoki laughed weakly at him. "It matters to me, baka. I'm okay with dying as long as you're safe. Don't fight me on this." Aoki's voice was startlingly clear despite its obvious weakness. "Besides," he continued, letting his hand fall to the ground, "it's a-already too late." Midori knew that Aoki spoke the truth. The wind whispered it to him. He leaned down and buried his face Aoki's stomach, hiding his tears. His fingers clutched at his friend's shoulders. Aoki's hands found their way into Midori's hair, stroking it comfortingly. "You can't stay here, Midori," Aoki said, and Midori knew he meant more than just staying in the training room with him until the instructors killed him for disobeying orders. "I want to you to try to get out if you can, have a c-chance to live your life for once, otouto." Midori's fingers tightened slightly around Aoki's shoulder at the endearment, and he actually sobbed as he nodded into Aoki's abdomen. "I love you, nii-san," Midori whispered. A faint smile twitched on Aoki's lips, and he tightened his hand briefly in Midori's messy black hair before his breathing slowed to a stop and his hand fell limply to the floor. Silence reigned.

Midori was eventually able to dragg himself to his room, carefully schooling his features into his usual emotionless expression as he made his way through the halls of the base. He spent a sleepless night curled up in Aoki's pallet breathing in his older brother's scent. When a pair of unfamiliar ROOT agents came for him in the morning, he was up and waiting for them, looking exactly the way he always did.

He was taken to a sterile looking room, where he was given a tattoo on his right bicep to signify that he was Anbu, and a seal that was painfully placed on his tongue. It would supposedly prevent him from telling any ROOT secrets to outsiders. He was then sent to train by himself in an empty room until he recieved further orders, with a new white mask on his face and tight fitting black clothes. He also had newly issued dark colored pouches filled with weapons, a pair of chakra conductive katanas, and two small but lethal fans.

Once he found an training room that suited his purpose, placed a barrier that would let him know if anyone approached around the room, and stop any chakra or sound from leaking out. Then Midori finally let go. His wind raged around him, gouging deeply into bare surfaces in response to his turmoil. He delivered powerful punches and kicks to a reinforced dummy with small body. Even the earth that was never so eager to respond to him seemed to rumble angrily beneath him at the force of his sorrow and grief. At the end of it all, Midori lay curled up in the middle of damaged floor, sobbing until the tears would come no more, and his breath shuddered through his chest. The wind caressed his face comfortingly, drying his tears while the ground thrummed beneath him, coaxing him into an exhausted slumber. The wind would wake him if anyone approached.

_**A/N: I'm so sorry for killing Aoki! It had to happen, even thought I cried while I wrote that. It was an essential part of the story line. If you have any questions, please ask, and feel free to give me feedback. I've also recently put an Itanaru oneshot called Heart and Soul up if anyone is interested.**_


	4. Chapter 4: Spy

_**A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update. I was really busy, and I had a severe case of writer's block. In case anyone was confused, I'm picturing Midori's connection to the earth as being like the way Togh sees with her earthbending in Avatar: The Last Airbender, except Midori can't move the earth or anything, and the earth feels more alive to Midori.**_

The days passed in blur of predictable monotony after Aoki's death. Beyond his move into a slightly more comfortable room in the Anbu section of the ROOT base, the lack of sadistic teachers, and the occasional mission, not much had changed for Midori from the time before his initiation, though luckily he hadn't yet been forced to kill anyone on a mission, as most of his missions consisted of information retrieval and spying. Even his supposed comrades' wariness of him remained the same, though instead of trainees it came from the other ROOT Anbu. He'd reached the level of his mentors by the time he'd been initiated, and since the Anbu Danzo had assigned to teach the trainees were among the strongest in all of ROOT, the rest of the Anbu were within their rights to be wary.

Midori went through the motions of life robotically, feeling numb on the inside. He had no motivation, no interest in anything. He hadn't spoken a single word since his brother's death, prefering to communicate using sign language. The few times he'd mustered the will to try to speak, he hadn't been able to get any sound out. The only reason he stayed alive was because it was Aoki had wanted, but his life was meaningless to him. He couldn't even bring himself to properly feel joy when he left ROOT headquarters for his first mission, the first time he had left the base in his memory. Everything changed, however, the day he discovered someone who didn't belong within the underground building.

He didn't realize the signifigance of what he had seen when the wind first showed him the image no one else could see, but when he did he quickly drew conclusions. There was a spy in the base, a spy that only he knew was there. A very good spy, hidden by very good genjutsus. The spy wasn't at the base all the time, seeming to appear at random, but Midori knew when the spy was around and where he was every time. It was enough to pull him out of his apathy and pursue the goal he had set for himself before Aoki's death. A small flame of hope grew in his chest. He would escape ROOT, just as Aoki had wanted.

. . .

Midori stopped in the middle of the dark corridor, waiting for the only ROOT agent within hearing distance to walk far enough away before turning to look at a seemingly empty corner of the ceiling. {I need to speak with you,} he signed using the standard Anbu sign language, staring straight at the spy through his genjutsu, his standard porcelain mask hiding his young features from sight. Silence was his only answer, but still he waited, gazing calmly at the corner, a slight draft gently ruffling his hair.

The spy was startled, and more than a little fearful that someone had discovered him, and even more startled that they had addressed him directly about it instead of going straight to Danzo. Not to mention that the person who had found him was so small, standing almost a full head shorter than the spy did. Normally he wouldn't trust an enemy, but the small shinobi apparently hadn't given him away to Danzo yet, so he didn't see anything wrong with seeing what the ninja wanted with him. Besides, he was curious know how the shinobi had discovered him despite his genjutsu. No one had ever been able to see through one of his genjutsu before now.

After almost a full minute of waiting, the spy dropped silently from the ceiling and walked forward until he was standing in front of Midori. Midori's eyes followed the image the wind showed him as it moved, while also feeling the slight vibrations of the light, almost imperceptable footsteps on the earth. The spy was young, Midori thought, and from what he could see had pale skin and red eyes occupied by three black tomoes. An Uchiha if he remembered correctly from his lessons on the village's history.

{Follow me,} Midori signed before turning in the direction of his quarters, though he was careful to moniter the spy's movements in case he decided to attack. Ten minutes and several flights of stairs later, they pair had safely reached Midori's room. It was slightly bigger than the one he'd shared with Aoki, and had an actual bed in one corner. There was a shelf for books and scrolls, and a wardrobe that had several copies of his Anbu uniform inside, along with all of the extra weapons and poisons Midori didn't carry with him at all times. Once inside, he turned to the spy, who had dropped the genjutsu once they had entered the room.

{I am called No. 173,} Midori began by way of introduction. {Were you sent by the Hokage?} The dark figure of the spy seemed to consider him for a moment before slowly dipping his head in answer. Midori smiled slightly in relief. He hadn't known what he was going to do if that hadn't been the case. Midori raised his hand, ignoring the way the spy tensed, and slowly removed his mask, revealing his young face to the shocked spy. Suprisingly green eyes met with the red sharingan behind the Anbu mask. {I have a proposition for you.}

. . .

"Ah, Itachi," the Hokage greeted amiably when a black clad Anbu shunshinned through the open window of the his office to give his report, the pale boy automatically removing his porcelain mask out of respect. The wise old man immediately noticed that the young Uchiha's body was more tense than usual. "Come to give your report I suppose," he said, receiving a nod.

"I was discovered by one of the ROOT operatives," Itachi said without preamble and the old man's face creased momentarily with worry. "The shinobi made contact with me without reporting me the Danzo. He wishes to aid in the destruction of ROOT. He has already been sealed by Danzo, but says that he is willing to help any way he can, and that his loyalty is to the Hokage." Hiruzen's eyes widened ever so slightly. He knew that there was a possibility that this shinobi was setting a trap, and if he wasn't that the shinobi wouldn't be able to outright reveal imformation about Danzo and ROOT, but it would still be a great asset if he was truly on their side. He turned his calculating gaze to Itachi.

"What do you think about this?" Hiruzen asked the Uchiha. Itachi frowned briefly, a small wrinkle appearing between his brows as he thought.

"I believe his offer was genuine. Danzo would stand to gain nothing from allowing us to continue spying, and. . ." Itachi paused, looking strangely lost. "He was very young. Even younger than Sasuke, I think. And he says his name is No. 173." The Hokage's eyebrows rose in surprise. He hadn't thought Danzo would stoop quite that low, but apparently he had been wrong. Making a quick decision, the Hokage nodded decisivly.

"Very well," he said, sounding very old. "Accept the boy's help, but I don't think that I have to tell you how careful you must be." The Sandaime's eyes were the epitome seriousness as they bored into Itachi's own, trying to convey the severity of the situation. He did not want the lives of these two young children, no matter how skilled, on his hands.

"Hai, Hokage-sama," Itachi said with a bow, before shunshinning out of the room.

. . .

Midori had never been so relieved as the time when the Anbu spy returned and accepted his offer of help. And while Midori couldn't directly tell him anything to do with Danzo or ROOT due to the seal on his tongue, he was able to show the spy where the trainees' section was. From there, the spy was able to observe what went on while hidden by his impressive genjutsu. The two of them established a place where they could leave each other messages inside a hidden niche in one of the less used corridors. It was far from a perfect system, but it worked well enough.

As they worked together, a gradual bond of trust grew between the two young shinobi, though Midori had yet to reveal his secret name to the spy, and had still not seen the spy's face or heard his name. Midori was hesitant to become close to someone he barely knew, especially after the pain of having Aoki so cruelly taken from him.

. . .

Itachi waited in No. 173 in his room, feeling slightly anxious. He knew that the younger boy was probably late due to an unexpected or extended mission for ROOT. It wasn't the first time something of this nature had occured. There had even been days when the boy was completely absent because of a mission. All the same, Itachi was very relieved when the door to No. 173's room opened and a familiar small figure walked in. As soon as the door was closed and the mask was off, the ROOT Anbu seemed to shrink wearily into himself, and he clearly favored his left leg. Itachi stood and guided the fatigued boy to the bed and began dressing his wounds. This was the worst Itachi had ever seen No. 173 upon returning from a mission, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Why did you betray ROOT?" Itachi asked the question he'd been curious about since the boy had requested to help him spy. No. 173 looked at him sharply before turning his gaze to the floor as Itachi bandaged a small cut on his right arm. When Itachi had finished, the boy began to sign.

{I was never loyal to ROOT in the first place, so I don't consider it a betrayal.} His arms drooped wearily as they moved through the air. {My whole life ROOT has only ever taken from me. My childhood, my free will, my brother. I was never given a name by them, not even a number until I was initiated. My brother, Aoki, gave me the name Midori. He was the only person I ever had a close relationship with, the only one who ever truly cared about me. He died.} Midori didn't cry, but Itachi could clearly see the pain in the small boy's eyes as he revealed a part of his past. Neither of them spoke for a while.

After a few moments of silence, Itachi moved. His hand rose slowly to his porcelain Anbu mask, grasped the edge carefully, and removed it, placing it carefully on the bed beside him. Midori stared at the face that had been revealed to him for the first time, taking in the sight with a tight feeling in the back of his throat. "My name is Uchiha Itachi," the spy told Midori. It was the ultimate sign of trust among Anbu to reveal their identity to someone, and that Itachi trusted him so much made a light feeling rise in his stomach. Itachi was, unsurprisingly, older than him, but only by a few years. Not nearly what Midori would have expected of an elite shinobi.

The Uchiha's eyes were black with his sharingan inactive, set in a well-structured face with snowy skin. Two lines made their way down his cheeks from under each eye, adding a slightly exotic look, which was only enhanced by the teenager's long inky black hair. Itachi was extremely good looking, Midori noted absently, the small smile on his face caused by the first positive emotion he'd had since Aoki had been killed.

Itachi had been nervous about revealing his identity, but it was worth when he saw the younger boy smile for the first time. When he saw Midori smile, Itachi wasn't able - nor would he have wanted to if he was - to stop himself from drawing the small boy close to him in a hug, much like he did with his younger brother whenever Sasuke would let him get away with it. Midori was surprised and tense at first, but once he realized what was happening, he relaxed into the hug to the best of his abilities, a feeling of warmth growing in his chest.

The pair only got closer after Itachi's show of trust. Midori couldn't find it in his heart to see Itachi as a brother, like Aoki had been, but Itachi was his best friend. They were similar in that they were taught from a young age to hide, if not kill, their emotions. Both had been pushed to the brink and forced to become strong. When they were within the walls of Midori's small room, they were allowed to forget the constant danger their lives were in, the fear of being caught. Itachi described his family, his otouto in particular, to Midori, and Midori told Itachi stories of his aniki in return. When Itachi first learned of his clan's betrayal, Midori was the only one to see his pain and comfort him, while internally going over all the various methods of torture he had learned to inflict upon the clan that had caused his only living precious person so much pain. Midori was the only one to see his tears when he was forced to kill Shisui.

. . .

Midori was reading a scroll detailing a new medical jutsu when Itachi entered his room for an unscheduled visit as silently as a shadow. He knew immediately that something was wrong from the anguished look in Itachi's eyes. "The Council had made its decision," Itachi said without preamble. "My clan is to be put to death for treason." Midori immediately walked to his friend, slipping his small hand into Itachi's bigger one and guiding him to the bed to sit. "There is enough proof against Danzo to act," Itachi said looking into Midori's eyes as the small boy tensed. "The story will be that I went mad and slaughtered my clan and Danzo before fleeing the village." Midori instantly reacted, shaking his head violently.

{It isn't worth it if you have to leave!} the child signed vehemently, dropping his tight grip on Itachi's hand. For once, the nine year old looked like the lost and frightened child that he was. {Don't leave!} Itachi pulled Midori's smaller body into a hug with a sad sigh, dropping his chin on Midori's shoulder.

"Even if we didn't move against ROOT now, I'd still have to leave. My mission while I'm out of the village will be to spy on a new organization called Akatsuki. As we speak, several Anbu teams are executing my clan and planting evidence that it was me. Soon even more Anbu will be here to take members of ROOT into custody, and I'll have to go kill Danzo. I promise that I'll keep in contact with you. I'll send you letters with my crows. There's nothing that can be done about it, understand?" Itachi asked, allowing himself to bask in the comfort of Midori's hug for a moment when the smaller boy nodded hesitantly into his chest. All too soon though, he had to pull away. "I have to go now," Itachi said regretfully. "Can you take me to Danzo?" Itachi asked as orders began to come through his comm unit. Anbu had arrived at the underground base.

. . .

A few hours later, Midori stood next to Itachi in front of the Hokage's desk. The boy was understandably shell shocked. After hours of battle Itachi, his best friend, had managed to kill Danzo, the man who had slain his aniki in cold blood. Then he had taken his first free steps out of the ROOT headquarters, and now stood in front of the man he had decided he truly served as a shinobi of Konohagakure. The wise old man looked at him kindly.

"As I see it, Midori-kun, you have several options," the Hokage said. "You can become a civilian if you wish, since you were never given a choice in becoming a ninja. I'm certain there would be civilian family's that would be willing to take you in. If that doesn't appeal to you, you could remain on your current path as a shinobi, either by immediately entering the ranks, or by entering the Ninja Academy, to be with children of your age." Midori shuffled nervously, tightening the grip he had on Itachi's hand and looking up at the older boy anxiously. Itachi nodded in encouragement, squeezing his hand with a ghost of a smile on his lips. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Midori reluctantly let go of the Uchiha's hand, lifting his own to sign.

{I'd like to go to the Academy.}

_**A/N: Just to make sure everyone knows for sure, Midori/Harry is not Sai. The reason Midori cannot talk is because he has conversion disorder. Conversion disorder is when a psychological trauma causes the loss of a physical function, and yes, one of those physical functions is the loss of the ability to speak. If you're curious, all you need to do is look it up. I hope you all liked this chapter, and if you're interested, please check out my other stories.**_


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